


The List

by Azad_Gadin



Series: Are we out of the woods yet? [1]
Category: Mr. Robot (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, Elliot just wants to chill, Established Relationship, M/M, Mr Robot to the rescue, Porn with Feelings, Tyrell cries alot
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-08-11
Updated: 2020-08-11
Packaged: 2021-03-05 19:14:38
Rating: Explicit
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,762
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/25850416
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Azad_Gadin/pseuds/Azad_Gadin
Summary: Post 404 Tyrell and Elliot find themselves in an arrangement.It's all good until it isn't.AU where Tyrell lives, dark army is defeated and our boys get domestic.
Relationships: Elliot Alderson/Leon, Mr. Robot/Tyrell Wellick
Series: Are we out of the woods yet? [1]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1875766
Comments: 3
Kudos: 13





	The List

**Author's Note:**

> Basic premise: Tyrell lives, they make love in the woods, dark army is defeated and the trio is left to figure out their relationship.  
> More context later as I add to the series, but for now enjoy this smutty oneshot.
> 
> Oh and if you don't ship Elliot/Leon, I would take a pass on all my work lol. You have been warned!

They had settled into a more or less comfortable routine, one that involved days of Elliot getting high out of his mind with Leon and nights of Tyrell getting his brains fucked out by Mr Robot.

So far, so good.

But as all good things, it had to end. And Elliot knew they had reached that end point when he slung his backpack onto the bed, where it hit a creature fully immersed in a state that could only be described as pitiful.

“Shit, man, I’m too high for this.” Elliot thought to himself as Tyrell’s red shot, accusing eyes glared at him from the mattress.

Granted, he was too high for most things these days: chores around the house, taking care of Flipper, remembering deadlines and general adulting stuff. Luckily for him, these things got magically taken care of, curtesy of Tyrell's dutiful nature (or the reward in form of Mr Robots stellar dick game, probably), so he should have perhaps been a little more understanding of Tyrell's misery, or grateful or whatever else was required to stop the sobs paired with shrill voiced accusations that were currently threatening to mess with his high.

But he was stubborn in his resolve, he had earned this vacation from life damnit and nobody was _forcing_ Tyrell to do his laundry, anyway. Additionally, Elliot had just spent the day with the most chill and uncomplicated person on the planet, so his standards were high.

All of this might explain his next, undoubtedly fuckboy move:

“Look man, I already told you I don’t actually give a fuck about how you feel and just cause Robot likes to get blowjobs doesn’t mean we’re gonna play happy family together.”

Tyrells voice, tainted by anger, goes impossibly higher and Elliot winces at the impending headache, shutting his eyes, which are equally bloodshot, albeit for different reasons than Tyrell’s.

“I do _everything_ for you! Look at me, you ungrateful _asshole”_

**_“_** You just do it because you like to feel needed. But I don’t need you” Elliot replies dryly, and he regrets this, in his heart, he really does, but it is the truth and it really isn’t his fault Tyrell can’t take this.

A whiff of fresh laundry and the lack of dust in the apartment, however, supply him with a fresh load of guilt. Damnit.

“How can it be” Tyrell is in hysterics now “that you are _so_ close to me at night and _so_ far from me right now?”

Elliot curses Mr Robot internally for turning the other man into this lovestruck little puppy and curses himself doubly for taking advantage of this, leaving him with no defense now and a roaring, all-consuming headache.

“I’m sorry, okay. That last bit was uncalled for. But still, it’s not me you’re close to so maybe it’s not me you should be talking to right now?”

It is a question, but it really isn’t. “Sorry” Elliot murmurs as he slips out of consciousness and therefore out of the battle. He mostly means it.

“Coward” Mr Robot hisses back.

Here’s the deal: Mr Robot is fond of Tyrell. Loves him, even. Wants to protect him, sure. Lets him get away with pretty much anything, yes.

But all of this goes out the window, because another thing is equally true: Seeing Tyrell all disheveled like this, wound up, hick ups from sobbing like a baby…nothing turns him on more.

Call him a sadist, whatever, but seeing his lover absolutely fucking lose it always does it for Mr Robot, the same way, if not maybe the tiniest bit more, than seeing him blissful and glowing after an orgasm. Go figure.

Right now, he makes his way to the mattress in three big strides, plopping down on it unceremoniously and grabbing Tyrell less than gently by his chin.

“Tsetsetse, sweetheart, now what is with the ugly crying? That’s not a cute look at all”

“You heard what he said!” Tyrell is flinging his arms in exasperation. “He said he doesn’t care about my feelings!” And at that he falls apart again, tears streaming and lips quivering and Mr Robot has to work hard at swallowing the moan that threatens to escape and reveal that the whole world does in fact seem to enjoy seeing Tyrell Wellick lose his absolute shit.

Well, that may be a tad dramatic. But what else is he to think when, instead of the reassuring hug he so desperately tries to manifest, he is given a push and lands on his back, straddled by Mr Robot who licks his lips and regards him with a lustful gaze.

“Aww you poor thing, banished to a whore’s life of nightly visits, while all you ever wanted was to be the respectable little _Hausfrau…”_

“Stop it.” The taunts have finally brought Tyrell back to the reality of who he is dealing with and his breathing steadies. “And that’s not even Swedish.”

“Oh, as if I care” Mr Robot zeroes in on the one thing he does care about, which are those pouty, cry swollen lips that he now claims, hungrily, eagerly, like a man who has waited too long for his share.

It grounds Tyrell, being possessed like this, knowing that the more he falls apart, the more appealing he will be and the more he breaks, the more pieces he will present for his lover to devour.

So he lets his tears fall, knowing there is somebody to drink them up, lets his sobs turn into moans and back into sobs by the hands that press into his body, in a hurry to get what they want, but never in a hurry to please him.

“So here’s the deal, sweetheart, you’re gonna be real patient for me now and then when I finally give you what you want, you’re gonna be a good boy and say thank you and I will never hear you complain about chores again, since we both know you love that shit because it gives you purpose.”

Tyrell whimpers, defeated, but somewhat content to be put in his place and taken off this rollercoaster of emotions.

He licks his lips, nods and surrenders to the feeling of his lover’s tongue trailing all the way from collarbone to jawline, hands squeezing his dick just so, never quite enough for pleasure and pinching his nipple never quite enough for pain.

But Mr Robot will not let him off that easily.

“What am I supposed to do with a nod, sweetheart, I need verbal confirmation. Say it like you mean it. And don’t forget your manners.”

For a second he worries that he is asking too much, that this is not really what Tyrell wants but then he can only smirk, because of course this is what he wants, why else would he sneak in here to sweep floors and wash dishes, only to put on a tear fest about being unappreciated in front of Elliot. Tyrell Wellick is nothing if not shameless, and Mr Robot loves and respects him for it even more.

“I…I’m sorry. I will be good and patient and…” He is cut off by Mr Robots finger at his entrance, circling around it, teasingly, already testing his patience.

“Just _fuck_ me already, oh my god…” He accentuates this with a buckle of hips and a long, frustrated grunt that only draws a chuckle from Mr Robot.

“I asked for manners, gorgeous. All I see is you being demanding.”

“I’m _s-sorryyy…_ please…just…please.” Mr Robot is already lubing his fingers and after the third high pitched sob he pushes in.

Things turn gentler, then, because Tyrell is no longer struggling, only shaking, watching Robots every move from underneath his wet eyelashes, looking for praise, recognition, stability; and he is granted all of this as Mr Robot stretches him out painfully slow, drowning him in sensations while holding him afloat with his words.

“Now here’s a good boy… look how well you are doing.” He kisses Tyrells sweaty forehead, his voice like caramel, sweet, rich and sure to burn your throat in large quantities. Tyrell opens himself up to all of it, burning included.

“Patience pays off, see? Now you’re all stretched out, ready to take my dick... that’s what you wanted, right? You earned it. You do so much for us, you work so hard and I never thank you enough…”

Robot plays him like a violin. Tyrell knows he is being played. He loves every minute of it, moaning in encouragement with every word, pleading for there to be more, wanting and needing this more than he needs to be fucked even, needing it from, he knows this now, not Elliot but from the only person in his universe whose words have godly meaning, the only one he can trust, the one worth losing his mind for.

“Want me to fuck you now, sweetheart? Ready for me to give you what you earned?”

“Yes…yes, I do, I am…”

“Manners…” Mr Robots voice is gentle, he just needs the confirmation that this is what the other wants, dragging it out not just for his sake, because god knows he is ready to burst himself and nearly does at Tyrells smile, angel sweet when he says “Yes, please, I want it”

It is impossible to tell whose moans are louder, they are both smiling now, kissing, trying to keep up with their senses, the waves of pleasure closing in over them. Tyrells face is yet again glossy with tears, he barely notices it until Mr Robot grabs his hair and grunts “You’re…so…fucking…pretty…when…you…cry” each word followed by a harder thrust until he has no choice but to lose himself in the man he loves, breathlessly drinking in the tears and moans and the whiny little sounds of someone high on the edge, ready to be pushed.

He gives Tyrells dick steady, but gentle strokes, caressing his hair and licking into his ear, finally whispering “I wanna see you cum for me, gorgeous” and, at last, watching him come undone, lose it completely and Mr Robot swears it is the most beautiful thing he has ever seen.

-

“Fine.” Elliot pouts, but doesn’t protest the checklist of chores in front of him, resigned to the fact that if he doesn’t make things right with Tyrell, he will know no peace from Mr Robot. Or his conscience. Which are basically the same, really.

The list:

  1. Apologize (+ hugs, or it doesn’t count!) to Tyrell.
  2. Do laundry.



Oh, he is not high enough for this.


End file.
